


Learn Me Right

by 00AwkwardPenguin00



Series: The Essence of Instinct [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AnimalShifters!AU, Enjoy!, Gen, Hunk discovers food, Implied/Referenced Animal Abuse, Implied/Referenced Arena Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, Lance discovers baths, Mad/Evil Science, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, PostModernish!AU, SemiDeaged!AU, Team as Family, The Triple AU of INSANITY, Title from Disney/Pixar's Brave, Trigger warnings:, also a Human!AU, as in all aliens are human, non-consensual genetic manipulation, now for the happy stuff, protective!Marmoras, things are looking up, what's the difference between sheets and blankets?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14001411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00AwkwardPenguin00/pseuds/00AwkwardPenguin00
Summary: In which Keith is suspicious (but what else is new?), Lance discovers baths, and everyone learns something new





	Learn Me Right

Keith goes from asleep to awake in an instant, but keeps his eyes closed and his body lax as he takes stock of his surroundings. He’s warm, surrounded by soft fabric and Lance, and he can hear Shiro and Hunk snoring close by. He can also hear two unfamiliar snores, drowning out Pidge’s softer breathing. He cautiously opens his eyes, registering bright light poking out around large and heavy-looking lengths of fabric that are bolted to one wall and hang freely down. The lab-den didn’t have any light behind fabric—when the white-coats wanted them to be awake, squares in the ceiling glowed brightly enough to hurt their eyes. The light streaming around the edges of the weird fabric wall is bright, but not painfully so, and allows Keith to look around once his eyes adjust.

He's in a… bed, he thinks it’s a bed, Shiro and Pidge and Hunk have talked about them—soft squishy platforms where you sleep, wrapped up in blankets and sheets and kept off of the hard, cold floor. Lance is smushed against his back, his twin’s long arms and legs wrapped around Keith’s body, face pressed against the spot where his neck meets his back. Normally this would be comfortable—the lab-den is cold, and everyone sleeps piled together for warmth. But this place is warm, the fabric covering him and Lance provides even more warmth, and Lance himself is a source of warmth, so between all of these things, Keith is actually sweating from all of the heat. He gently wriggles out of Lance’s grasp, trying to avoid waking him up. Lance snorts in his sleep and rolls over, snuggling into Hunk on his other side. Keith sits up and pushes the… he assumes that the fabric covering him is a blanket ( _what’s the difference between a sheet and a blanket?_ He wonders) …pushes the blanket off of him, feeling much better. He’s wearing a thin shirt and a pair of pants, both soft, but the pants feel different, smoother, than the shirt.

A thought occurs to him, and Keith’s hand flies up to his neck. The purple collar is gone, and he vaguely remembers how an older man with a funky fur patch on his face had gently cut it off while babbling something about wombats. The others had all been ecstatic when the man had removed their collars; Lance and Hunk had cried, and Pidge had demanded that she be allowed to burn hers. He’s not sure how he feels about it—he’s had that collar around his neck since he was nearly four years old, in both his animal and human forms. To take his mind off of it, he peers around the new den.

There appear to be two beds, with Lance, Hunk, Shiro, and himself piled on one, and Pidge curled up on the other with the man she made such a fuss over last night. She looks happier than he’s ever seen her, so even though the white-coat makes him want to snarl and snatch her back from him, he leaves her alone. And really, is the man even a white-coat anymore? He wasn’t wearing one last night, and the single time Keith had seen him in the lab, he had looked so scared and sad that Keith now has to wonder if he’d ever been a white-coat at all. The other white-coats had been either grinning, frowning, or blank-faced when they did their “tests”. This one had looked like he would cry if they even whimpered in fear or pain. It had unnerved Keith so much that he’d done everything he was told just so he could get away from the sad white-coat. Later, Hunk had told him that he’d heard the sad white-coat yelling at Haggar about “blowing the whistle” on her, whatever that meant.

They’d never seen the sad white-coat again.

And now here he is, dressed in a shirt covered in little pictures that was the color of the horrible mushy carrots the pride ate with every meal at the lab, snoring so loudly that Keith is surprised that he hasn’t woken himself up. He looks so ridiculous, hugging Pidge to his chest in his sleep the way Pidge herself would grab and hug any limb that got close to her when she slept, that Keith really can’t bring himself to hate the guy.

Keith sighs and turns his attention back to studying their new den. It’s big, much, much bigger than their lab den, and much warmer, as he’d previously discovered. His human sight isn’t as good as his shift’s sight in semi-darkness, but he can tell that the walls are colored, and the floor is covered in some kind of texture he’s never seen before. There is a table and a chair against the wall across from the weird cloth-wall, with a closed door in the corner. The wall across from the beds is taken up with some kind of construction that involves doors and lengths of some kind of material that seem to be attached to the wall itself.

Keith eyes the door in the corner and wonders if it opens. He doesn’t see any kind of toilet or container for piss, and there’s a heaviness in his gut that tells him he has to go. He really doesn’t want to mess up this amazing new den, with its soft beds and warmth and soft, dim light, but his body is telling him that if he doesn’t find somewhere to piss soon, what he _wants_ ain’t gonna matter much longer. It’s either take the risk of opening the door, or deal with the anger of his den mates for pissing in the nice new den.

He’d rather risk the door.

Keith slithers out from under Lance and the blankets, and bites back a sigh of relief when his skin is able to breathe again. Lance is his twin, and Keith can’t even begin to imagine his life without the leopard-shift (and doesn’t much want to, anyway), but the boy puts out so much _heat_ that Keith is often worried the kid will burst into flames when they least expect it.

The clothes that Keith is wearing are light, barely there, but it’s been so long since he’s worn pants at all that he finds his gait has been a bit thrown off by the extra material as he creeps toward the door. He studies the door for a moment—it looks like there’s some kind of lock on his side of the door, which makes absolutely _no sense at all_ , it’s like whoever runs this place isn’t even _trying_ to keep them from leaving—

“The door’s unlocked, kid.”

Keith jumps a foot into the air and snarls so loudly he’s surprised that no one else wakes up. He manages to avoid pissing himself, but it’s a very close thing. He whirls around to face the speaker, who turns out to be the tagalong human that had followed Pidge’s sad white-coat last night. He’s sitting up beside the sad white-coat, looking at Keith with the same expression Pidge wears when Lance is babbling too fast to follow in Spanish—a combination of amusement and insatiable curiosity. Keith both loves and hates that look.

He doesn’t shift, but he bares his teeth at the unknown human. The other boy looks unimpressed, and cracks a huge yawn.

“That door’s unlocked, you can go on out if you want,” he says.

Keith is immediately suspicious, but his body is screaming at him, so he grabs the round part of the locking mechanism that sticks out and pulls on it. It doesn’t budge. It feels oddly loose, but Keith’s too desperate to think, just pulls on the thing with all his might. He knew it, it _is_ locked, that damned human fucking _lied_ , they always _lie—_

A hand grasps his shoulder, not hard or painful, but Keith is too angry and desperate and terrified to treat it as anything but a threat. He whirls around with the biggest snarl he can produce in this form, and uses his ragged human nails to blindly scratch at the arm the hand is attached to.

The hand spasms on his shoulder, but doesn’t let go, and the human bodily moves him away from the door. Keith _yowls_ , a split second away from shifting, when suddenly he hears a _click_ , and the door swings open.

Keith stops cold, staring at the open door. He doesn’t even register when the human boy lets go of him.

He doesn’t know what he expected to see when the door finally opened, but a huge room occupied by quietly talking people definitely wasn’t it. And nothing happened when the human boy opened the door, not like at the lab-den when even getting within swiping distance of the door usually resulted in a painful jolt from the purple collars around their necks.

“You gonna go or not?” The human boy asks, voice gruff. “I feel like I should wonder how on earth you got to… eleven? twelve? whatever—without ever learning how to work a doorknob, but I probably don’t wanna know, do I? How old are you, anyway? Do you even know?”

Keith side-eyes the human boy, shoving down the amusement at finding that he talks as much as Pidge. He’s tall, built like Lance but a little shorter than Hunk. He’s still bigger than Keith, though, and that makes him dangerous. Keith says nothing, and does his best not to wince when a stabbing pain spikes through his gut. He doesn’t seem to succeed. The human boy’s eyes, pale brown like Pidge’s, get astonishingly wide.

“Oh, damn, you need to _go_ , don’t you?” He asks. “Here, I’ll take you to the bathroom, it’ll be faster. Follow me.”

The strange human waves a hand at Keith, and walks past him through the open door. Voices raise, but not angrily.

“Matthew! Didn’t expect you up so soon! Can I interest you in some eggs and Vegemite soldiers? Just the thing to start the day!”

The boy wrinkles his nose, and his voice goes a bit funny as he says, “no thanks, Mr. Coran, I was just helping Keith find the bathroom.” He peers back at Keith, who hasn’t moved since the door opened. “You comin’? It’s just over there.” He points off to somewhere on Keith’s left, out of his line of sight.

Keith hesitates, mind buzzing, when Shiro’s large hand lands gently on his shoulder and squeezes lightly.

“Want me to come with you?” He asks quietly.

Keith nods immediately, looking up at his oldest brother’s dark gray eyes. Shiro smiles gently, rubbing Keith’s shoulder. “We’ll take turns guarding the door,” he says. Keith nods again, so relieved that he nearly pisses himself as the human leads them over to another door. Shiro always knows what to do, and never gets angry at Keith or his brothers or sister when their heads get the better of them.

The cleaning room the human boy shows them is a blur, since Keith only has eyes for the toilet. He does his business, nearly moaning out loud at the relief, and switches places with Shiro in front of the door. Crossing his arms and fixing his best scowl on his face, he studies the people on the other side of the huge room.

He recognizes the old guy with the weird orange hair on his upper lip, and Agent Dave and Agent Mark from last night (this morning?). The fourth man is unknown, as is the dark-skinned woman standing with them. For a heart-stopping moment, Keith thinks that the woman is Haggar—they have the same long silvery hair—but upon closer inspection he realizes that this woman is much, much younger than the witch, with skin darker than Hunk’s, while Haggar is as pale as Shiro. The woman sees Keith looking at her and smiles.

[-]

Allura felt eyes on her and glanced in the direction of the lav. One of the younger boys, Keith, was studying her intently with dark eyes, his brow furrowed and mouth pinched in a deep scowl. She sent him her best shift-friendly smile, no teeth, and he blinked, face going blank in the most adorable expression of confusion she’d ever seen.

The door to the lav opened, and the oldest member of the “pride” stepped out, wiping his single hand on his t-shirt. He then ruffled Keith’s long, unkempt black hair, causing the boy to scowl again. Despite that, the boy seemed to attach himself to the eldest’s side like a limpet as the man moved cautiously but with purpose toward where Coran, the FBI agents, and herself were gathered in the “lounge” of the flat allocated for the “Voltron pride”.

Agent Thace met them halfway, talking quietly, then the agent led them over to join the group.

“Shiro, Keith, I’d like you to meet a few people,” he said. Gesturing to the most senior of the FBI agents, he began, “this is Supervisory Special Agent John Kolivan, of the Shift Crimes Unit of the FBI. He’s in charge of investigating the company that owns the building we found you guys in.”

Agent Kolivan was of an age with Allura’s uncle Coran, and often sought the Center’s assistance through the course of his investigations. His dark eyes were kind as he regarded the two shifts.

Agent Thace then gestured to Allura and Coran. “This is Allura d’Altea, CEO of the Alfor d’Altea Foundation, which runs the Alfor Centers for Shift Services,” he said. “And Coran d’Altea, Chief Operations Officer for the Foundation and General Manager of this particular Alfor Center.” Turning back to the group, Agent Thace gestured to the two shifts, starting with the youngest. “Everyone, this is Keith and Shiro.”

Allura stepped forward, slowly and carefully extending her left hand to the eldest, Shiro. “A pleasure to meet you, Shiro,” she said, “although I am sorry it was through these circumstances. Welcome to the Alfor Center.”

Shiro blinked at her, and something about those cool gray eyes seemed rather familiar. He hesitantly put his large, scarred hand in hers.

“Thanks for having us,” he said softly. Allura gave her shift-friendly smile, and gave his hand a brief shake before letting go. Turning to Keith, she had the feeling that if she tried to shake his hand, the younger boy might bite it off, with or without shifting. So, she simply smiled at him again, being careful not to show her teeth.

“This flat is yours to use for as long as you need,” she told Shiro. “The kitchen is fully stocked, both with ingredients and with pre-made meals, or you can use the cafeteria on the second floor. Clothing is available on the second floor as well, not really anything stylish, I’m afraid, but enough to tide you over until you feel confident enough to buy things more to your liking. If you want or need anything, Coran here can help you.”

At this, her uncle stepped forward with his own shift-friendly smile. “Quite right,” he said. “I’m number one on the intercom speed-dial, and I’m always available to help out in any way I can. For a start, may I suggest— “

Allura knew that Coran was going to suggest a visit to the “spa” on the second floor, since both Shiro and Keith both looked like they hadn’t seen a barber in years, but his words were cut off by a sharp cry of “Keith!” from the bedroom that the pride had been occupying since they were brought to the flat early this morning, followed by a roar that shook the walls.

From the bedroom raced a huge spotted cat, a jaguar, if Allura remembered correctly, but this jaguar was different than any she’d seen before, either shift or wild.

Its fur was _blue_.

Deep indigo rosettes and spots decorated a cerulean field, which lightened to white with the lightest blue tint on its belly and the undersides of its legs, tail, paws, chin, and neck. Its nose and lips were the deepest navy. Its eyes, despite being narrowed by its terrifying snarl, stood out boldly in a nearly glowing golden yellow.

The jaguar-shift shouldered Keith and Shiro away from Allura and the men, and stood facing her and the others aggressively, teeth bared and tail lashing frantically. Its snarls and growls rumbled like thunder, and Allura felt her heart race.

“Lance, stop!” Shiro ordered, voice ringing deep and commanding over the jaguar-shift’s growling. The sound of fabric tearing apart alerted everyone to Keith shifting. In his place stood a cougar, his smooth fur a bold, dazzling crimson, accented with cream around his nose and on his belly and the undersides of his limbs. Keith swatted the jaguar-shift upside the head with a paw, snarling. The jaguar-shift’s attitude immediately changed, and it purred and rubbed its head against the cougar-shift’s. Keith seemed to submit to this treatment with ill-grace, his ears pinned back, but made no attempt to dissuade the jaguar-shift from showering him with affection.

“It seems that Honerva Galra has much to answer for,” Agent Kolivan rumbled.

“Indeed,” Agent Ulaz ground out. “I shudder to think what other changes she has made to the genetic code of these children. According to the shift I first encountered in that lab, she was trying to create a multi-shift, a shift with multiple animal forms. It makes sense that she would dabble in simple cosmetic changes, but at what cost to them?”

Allura bit her lip as another large feline, an enormous tiger in shades of bright yellow and pale orange, padded timidly out of the room and took refuge behind Shiro, peering nervously around the man with golden eyes. Curled up on the tiger-shift’s head was a much smaller cat, moss and pine rosettes, spots, and streaks decorating brilliant emerald fur, whose own huge golden eyes watched the cougar- and jaguar-shifts cuddling on the floor with feline amusement.

Shiro sighed. “Sorry about this, Ms. d’Altea, Agent Kolivan,” he said forlornly. “Keith and Lance grew up together in Haggar’s lab from the time they were three or four, and the only times they’ve been separated have been when the white-coats gassed us to sleep and took one or the other. I guess when Lance woke up without Keith he panicked.”

“Lance is the… blue… jaguar-shift?” Agent Kolivan asked.

Lance looked up from where he was bathing Keith’s ears and chirped, and Shiro nodded. “That’s right,” the younger man replied. He rested his hand on the tiger-shift’s shoulder, and the green cat took the opportunity to nimbly scurry up his arm and wrap around his neck, purring as it rubbed its head against Shiro’s. “The tiger is Hunk, and this little purring machine around my neck is Pidge. We’re not sure what she is, she never could remember the name and the white-coats never told us anything.”

“Katie’s a margay,” Dr. Holt cut in, emerging from the bedroom and joining the group in the lounge area. Pidge trilled a greeting and leaped down from Shiro’s shoulder, racing up the arm Dr. Holt offered her and curling around his neck, purring loudly enough to be heard clearly from several feet away. “They’re found in the Amazon rainforest, and very, very rare in the wild. Is anyone hungry? I believe that I owe someone some peanut butter toast.”

Both Lance and Keith immediately shifted, and Allura made a mental note to ensure that the entire pride received some shift-proof clothing. Lance turned out to be a tall, lanky boy of an age with Keith, with very pale brown skin that Allura thought might deepen a few shades to match her own if the boy spent any time out in the sun.

“What’s peanut butter?” Keith asked.

[-]

Lance decides that he _loves_ peanut butter. Especially on the crunchy warm bread that Sr. Dave calls “toe-st”.

At first Shiro doesn’t eat more than a few bites before passing his share to Hunk, or Keith, or Lance, or Pidge, but Sr. Dave and the nice abrigo-blanco catch on to him quickly. Sr. Dave goes to a door in the corner of the eating room and opens it. After a few heartbeats, he turns away and closes the door with his foot. His arms are full of the shiny packages of bread that the abrigo-blanco is using to make the toe-st, and Lance feels his mouth fall open. Hunk makes a blissful noise, and Shiro and Keith stare at the bounty with wide eyes.

 _“There is plenty of food here for everyone, whenever you want it,”_ Sr. Dave says in Inglés, slowly and carefully enough for Lance to follow. _“You don’t have to ask—you can just come in and take whatever you want. If there is something you want that isn’t here, just ask me, or Dr. Sam, or Mr. Coran, and we’ll do our best to get it. If you run out of something, also let us know, and we’ll get more. All we ask is that you don’t keep food in the bedrooms. It’ll keep better here in the kitchen, and you won’t get sick from food that has gone bad.”_ He glances at each of Lance’s siblings and gets a nod in return, even though Shiro’s is reluctant. He turns then to Lance.

“Did you understand, Lance?” He asks, in Spanish this time, dark eyes kind and worried.

Lance is still translating the words in his head, but he thinks he gets the gist of it, and nods hesitantly. “There’s always going to be food, right? That’s what you said?”

Sr. Dave nods, smiling gently and placing a large hand on Lance’s head. “That’s right, azulito, and you never have to ask to take some,” he says.

Lance beams. He loves it when he understands Inglés without help—he doesn’t feel nearly so useless.

After that, even Shiro eats his fill. They don’t even make a dent in the enormous amount of food Sr. Dave had shown them, which reassures Shiro and Keith.

 _“Okay, everyone, time for baths,”_ the abrigo-blanco announces. He leads everyone into the cleaning room, and demonstrates how to work the shower and the tub. Sr. Dave echoes the words in Spanish, and shows Lance the sham-poo (it’s in a colorful bottle that’s shaped like a fish and Lance is in _love_ ) and the red- and white-swirled bar of soap that makes _pink bubbles_ and smells like _heaven_. Lance is dancing in place with excitement by the end of the demonstrations, eager to get in the water, and Sr. Dave laughs and tells the abrigo-blanco (Dr. Sam, Sr. Dave calls the abrigo-blanco Dr. Sam, Lance needs to remember that) to let Lance go first.

Lance decides that hot baths are the best thing in the whole world. No, the whole _universe._ He splashes, dives, blows bubbles, and laughs more than he has in _years_. At one point, Shiro pokes his head in, and Lance tries to squirt him through his fingers, laughing at the befuddled expression on his hermano’s face.

Lance washes his hair with the fish sham-poo, delighting in the bubbles and novel scent that effuses from them. After rinsing, he notices the cloudiness of the water, and opens the drain.

He shakes the water from his hair as he turns on the shower, remembering the instructions Sr. Dave translated for him. It takes a few tries to get the right balance between hot and cold, but eventually the water is wonderfully warm, falling from above like the stories Pidge and Hunk and Shiro told about rain. The heaven-smelling red and white soap makes fluffy pink bubbles as he rubs it between his wrinkly hands, and he accidentally breathes them in as he tries to smell them while washing his face.

Lance doesn’t know how long he spends in the amazing room, but eventually Keith sticks his head in and scowls.

 _“Other shifts need to get in there, dumbass,”_ he growls. _“Hurry the fuck up.”_

Even if he only understands eight words out of twelve, Lance still recognizes the tone as Keith’s “Lance is being annoying” voice, and reluctantly decides that his turn is over. He turns off the water, and gives his hair and head a good hard shake to get as much water off as possible before grabbing one of the fluffy-looking towels from a hook on the wall. He wraps it around himself from armpits to ankles, and drapes another over his head, relishing the warm softness. Then he shuffles over to the door and hesitantly twists the doorknob the way Sr. Dave had. To his immense relief, the door opens, and he can see his brothers and sister and Sr. Dave and Dr. Sam all gathered on the seats at the other end of the room.

 _“All done!”_ He calls in Inglés, grinning broadly at the shock on Sr. Dave’s and Dr. Sam’s faces. _“Next turn!”_

[-]

Sam couldn’t get over the fact that he had his daughter back in his arms. Despite being _(oh lord)_ ten years old, his little Katie hadn’t moved out of touching distance since before breakfast (or was it lunch? The clock said 2PM, but Sam felt like it was only nine in the morning. Ugh— he was too old to be messing around with his sleep schedule).

The rest of the pride, with the exception of Lance who was outright _frolicking_ in the bathroom (and Sam was completely unashamed of the relief he felt at the sounds of it), was gathered on the couches in front of the apartment’s entertainment center. Agent Thace (“Call me Dave”) was demonstrating the use of the apartment’s tablets to control the view-screen and to access the internet to Takashi and Hunk, and Katie was busily bookmarking language and literacy apps for Keith and Lance while the former peered curiously over her shoulder. The black-haired boy, whose age Sam had ballparked between twelve and fourteen, was very careful to avoid coming within arm’s reach of Sam.

Keith wandered over to where Matt was (hopefully) doing homework at the desk across the room from the entertainment center. He didn’t seem to be able to settle down, but Sam knew that there was no way the cougar-shift was going to take any suggestions for activity from him. Thankfully, he didn’t seem so reticent with Matt—he mumbled something to the older boy, which Matt answered with a broad grin and a wave of his hand, and the two began chatting (or rather, Matt began chatting, and Keith listened with a completely blank look on his face). After a few moments, Matt turned off his keyboard display and pushed it and his tablet away, and took his sketchbook out of his backpack along with a box of thick crayons meant for toddlers. Sam watched with a growing smile as Matt drew two parallel lines crossed by two perpendicular lines, then taught Keith how to draw X’s and O’s. And then his clever, mischievous son turned to him and grinned widely.

“Hey Dad, you wanna help me show Keith how to play tic-tac-toe?”

“Only if you bring that pad over here,” Sam replied cheerfully. “I’m far too comfortable where I am to move.”

“C’mon, Keith, you’re gonna learn the art of tic-tac-toe from the master,” Matt declared, picking up the sketchbook and trotting over to Sam’s end of the couch. Keith followed reluctantly, crouching on the balls of his feet just out of arm’s reach.

“Why thank you, Matt,” Sam said, selecting the orange crayon before Matt could get it. Matt pouted at him.

“I wasn’t talking about _you_ , Dad,” he scoffed, picking up the green crayon.

“Matthew, you wound me!” Sam gasped, clutching his heart. “Betrayed by my own son!”

“Careful, Matty, or Dad might take you out of the will,” Katie teased from Sam’s left.

“Okay, Keith, Dad’s got the orange crayon, and I’ve got the green,” Matt began, loftily ignoring his sister’s snickering. “I’m going to draw X’s, and Dad’s going to draw O’s. The point of the game is to get three in a row while preventing your opponent from doing the same. So, Dad’s going to draw his first O.”

Over the course of the next hour, Sam played several games of tic-tac-toe with Matt as his son taught Keith how to play. He stayed quiet for the most part, allowing Keith to get used to his presence without forcing the boy to interact directly with him.

“Lance is taking forever,” Katie grumbled, running her fingers through her hair with a moue of disgust. “Isn’t he done yet? I haven’t had a real shower in a year.”

“I’ll go yell at him,” Keith declared. He stalked over to the bathroom door and yanked it open, recoiling from the plume of steam that billowed out.

“Other shifts need to get in there, dumbass,” he snarled. “Hurry the fuck up.”

If Lance gave a response, it was lost in the snap of the door closing, and Keith stomping back over to the sitting area.

Shiro frowned reproachfully at the boy over his tablet. “Watch your language, Keith,” he scolded.

Suddenly, the door opened again, and Lance emerged in a cloud of steam. His wide grin was nearly lost in the three towels he’d wrapped around himself.

“All done!” He announced grandly in heavily Spanish-accented English. “Next turn!”

Keith slunk curiously over to the Latino and rubbed a corner of a towel with his fingers. “Soft,” he murmured, eyes wide with wonder.

 _“Sí, muy suave,”_ Lance replied, nearly purring as he rubbed his face on a towel. _“Hay muchas toallas suaves allí.”_

The moment was broken by the slam of the bathroom door, and Sam blinked and then smiled when he realized who had gotten the jump on the others. Keith was the next to figure it out, and scowled darkly.

“Pidge, you little rat!” He snarled, banging on the door with a fist.

 _“~Ya snooze ya lose, suckers!~”_ Came the reply, and something in Sam relaxed at his daughter’s lighthearted tone. Katie was wounded, but she was young, and still his spunky little girl.

[-]

Hunk takes his shower after Keith, at Shiro’s insistence. The hot water feels wonderful, and when he comes out, Hunk is ready and eager to tackle dinner for his pride. He even feels confident enough to sidle up to Dr. Sam.

“Dr. Sam, sir?” He says quietly. He flinches a bit when the former white-coat turns to him, but the man’s easy smile is soothing.

“Yes Hunk? Can I help you with something?” The older man asks.

Hunk takes a deep breath. “I wanna make dinner for everybody, sir,” he blurts out, “but I dunno… what might be good for us to eat. I don’t wanna make anybody sick…” He feels his face heat up, and he stares at his bare feet. It’s been so long since he’d cooked… not since he and his family had left Samoa for the family reunion in Los Angeles.

“That’s very kind of you, Hunk,” says Dr. Sam with an even bigger smile. “Do you have a recipe you want to try?”

“N-no sir…” Hunk stutters, then stops and thinks. Shiro always talked about the first time he’d tried mac and cheese. He’d never had it before coming to the US, but had fallen in love with it before his poaching.

“Mac and cheese,” he decides, nodding to himself. “It’s Shiro’s favorite, and Keith and Lance never had it before.”

“Done!” Dr. Sam declares, grinning broadly. “Come into the kitchen with me, Hunk, and we’ll see what we can scrounge up.”

Hunk grins back, and follows Dr. Sam into the kitchen. They gather together elbow pasta, cheese, and milk, and Dr. Sam shows Hunk how to cook the pasta in the milk, at a simmer so that the milk doesn’t scorch, and then how to add the cheese gradually so that it doesn’t clump up, but melts smooth and creamy.

“A good chef always tastes his creation before plating,” Dr. Sam says, handing Hunk a spoon. Hunk nervously dips the spoon into the pot, fishing out a few noodles, and tastes. The cheese is sharp, but tempered by the milk, and the noodles are nice and firm. But there’s something lacking…

Dr. Sam roots around in one of lower cabinets. He comes out with a small shaker of some spice, which he gently sprinkles over the pot before giving the contents several vigorous stirs. He takes the spoon from Hunk and tastes, and smacks his lips with a grin.

“Much better,” he sighs, handing Hunk the spoon again. Hunk keeps his eye on the former white-coat as he tastes, until the flavor bursts on his tongue, and he closes his eyes to really take it in.

Where before the food was a bit on the bland side, now it is full-bodied and rich, exploding in his mouth.

“Wow…” Hunk murmurs, chewing slowly to savor the flavor. “What did you put in, sir?”

“Just some dried mustard, and Hunk, you don’t have to call me sir,” Dr. Sam replies, smiling kindly. “Sam is fine, or Dr. Sam if you insist on formality. Now, what do you think? Is this dish ready for plating?”

“Yup!” Hunk swallows, and grins broadly. “The others are gonna love this!”

“Why don’t you set the table and serve up, and I’ll go get the others?” Dr. Sam suggests, washing his hands in the sink.

“Okay!” Hunk chirps, opening cabinet doors until he finds bowls. Using the mixing spoon, he fills each bowl one at a time, then sets them on the table with a spoon.

Lance is the first one to enter the room, practically drooling as he crowds up behind Hunk and sniffs avidly. _“¡Huele muy bien, Hunk!”_ He purrs.

“Go sit down, Lance,” Hunk laughs, pushing his hand into his little brother’s face. Lance growls playfully, pretending to lick Hunk’s hand, and Hunk chuckles and cuffs the younger boy upside the head. Lance laughs brightly and dances away, as Keith creeps in with wide eyes.

“Hunk… did you make this?” He asks, sitting down at the table and eyeing the bowl in front of him.

“Yup!” Hunk declares, grinning and setting the last bowl down. “Dr. Sam helped a lot, too. Dig in, guys!”

Lance and Keith need no more encouragement—they immediately pick up their spoons and start shoveling the food into their mouths.

Shiro pads up to the table, nose twitching, and his eyes widen at the sight.

“Come sit, Shiro, it’s amazing!” Keith says, beckoning their oldest sibling over.

Shiro hesitantly pads over, bare feet nearly silent on the tile floor of the kitchen, and Hunk pulls out the nearest chair for him, next to Lance, who is nearly face first in his bowl.

The first bite Shiro takes with a shaking hand brings tears to his eyes, and for a split second Hunk is terrified that he’s messed it up.

“Hunk,” Shiro chokes out, “this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Hunk’s cheeks hurt from grinning so hard.

[+]

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
>  **"Si, muy suave."** = _Yes, very soft._  
>  **"Hay muchas toallas suaves allí."** = _There are many soft towels there._  
>  **“¡Huele muy bien, Hunk!"** = _It smells great, Hunk!_
> 
> Apologies for the length of time between posts-- things have been really busy for me in Real Life the last month or so, and this one in particular gave me some trouble. But everything's mostly settled down now, and I've got time to write again! 
> 
> So at this point, I'm opening up the floor for prompts and requests. Please no ships other than Shiro/Allura, Hunk/Shay, and Sam/Colleen Holt-- otherwise, anything goes! I've got some plots in the works, but I'd love to hear suggestions from you guys. 
> 
> So send me a PM, or you can find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/awkwardpenguinproductions). Or if you just want to squee about Voltron (I haven't watched the fourth or fifth seasons yet, I'm going to have a marathon the next time I have a full weekend to myself), I'm totally down! Can't wait to hear from y'all!


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